


Frozen

by Donya



Series: Asgardian Tony [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Asgardian Tony Stark, Feels, Fluff, FrostIron - Freeform, M/M, Post Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 11:45:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1265302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donya/pseuds/Donya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asgardian prince Loki left the palace to live with a poor blacksmith Anthony. They have a child and pretend they are happy but poverty ruins everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frozen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melikenoother](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melikenoother/gifts).



> A sequel to 'Worth it' because I just had to make myself sad again. Can be read as a separate story.

Another winter day began with a bloody red sunrise. Outside it was freezing, the frost on the fence and on the little window. More snow fell that night, it would be even more difficult to gather wood and leaves, as if Loki didn't have enough trouble with that already. He barely remembered those times when he loved snow, those days of carefree joy that only children are capable of were gone.

He woke up before dawn, shaking under the thin quilt. It seemed so unreal that once he used to sleep naked. Now he wore all his coarse clothing and still could not stop trembling. The walls did not keep the warmth inside their poor little house. Careful not to disturb Anthony or their son, Svein, Loki raised himself and checked the stove. The embers still gleamed red and orange. Loki blew on them, then grabbed a handful of dried leaves, that was the first layer, right on the embers. Then thin sticks and sawdust, and lastly, logs. Hopefully it was enough to start a fire.

Living there, in a remote, poor log dwelling was more challenging than Loki could have expected. Every day was a struggle. He stopped caring about his appearance, the poverty cured him of his vanity. What was the point of washing his hair, nobody cared if his hands were black from the soot. The child was to small to be ashamed by Loki's appearance. When Loki was still pregnant, he cleaned the house every day, desperately trying to wash their clothing in the cold river but it could not last. He gave up when the baby drained him of energy. No one minded the dirt when they barely could feed themselves. It was like a storm cloud that hid the sun and made Loki live in an endless dark, an overwhelming apathy.

 

He was outside, searching for leaves and sticks under the thick layer of snow, cursing quietly. The hardship of living in such conditions did not let him enjoy that sunny day. The snow made everything appear brighter, lighter but Loki was still in the shadows. His hands were red and stiff and yet he could not abandon his work and curl up next to the stove. That was his duty, collecting the wood. It was not a complicated task but Loki could not focus. They had only a few handfuls of grain left, just a few and the spring would not come in weeks. Loki added tree bark to the flour, hoping it would save them from starving in those last winter weeks but it was not enough. He still tried to push away that thought, although inside he wept in frustration. Everything was so difficult. He was not coping with that amount of unsolvable problems.

'Mama!' Svein called out, running between the trees. That was his third winter, he was a big boy, more independent than expected. His movements were more graceful now, he stopped being so adorably clumsy, learnt how to keep balance. His features were still soft but those wide curious eyes could belong to an older man. Sometimes it seemed that Svein understood how hopeless their situation was, he was smarter than any child of his age. Loki didn't want to worry Svein, he had a right to be blissfully unaware of how hard life can be.

Loki could not determine if Svein had magic. Perhaps it was still to early to be sure of that, perhaps Svein did not know yet what was only his imagination and what was real. His dreams merged with reality, tales he was told sounded real to him. His attention span still too short to teach him anything that required concentration. Loki's intrusive questions irritated Svein and made him cry out, 'Not! Not', his way of ending a discussion.

'There you are! Where's Pappa?' Loki embraced his son and squeezed him hard before the child squirmed away. His chubby cheeks reddened and eyes glistening with excitement.

'He's coming but so slow. I made a payu!' He announced, very proud of himself. Loki had no idea what he meant. Pie? Pile? Svein's speech was sometimes hard to understand and most often Loki would just nod, pretending he did know what his son said. 'Come, see!'

Svein tugged at Loki's sleeve until Loki agreed to follow him. They went behind the house and Svein pointed to a little pile that consisted of a handful of pebbles, two short icicles and a few thin twigs. Loki gasped in an almost genuine adoration.

'It's a wonderful pile, Svein, good job, we need to show that to Pappa.'

The boy helped him with the wood for one or two minutes, then began running around the house, screaming, testing his voice and when he got tired, he started playing with icicles. Later, he tried to climb a tree but forgot about that when he found a perfect piece of bark. In his eyes, it looked like a sword. Loki was half-amused, half-devastated watching his son's toys. He remembered his chamber filled with colorful wooden toys, balls made of leather and rags, little bricks that he used to build towers, always competing with Thor, wooden swords, books filled with beautiful pictures. How little did he appreciate what he had, how he wished his son could have what he had. Loki realised he was a spoilt little princeling, taking everything for granted because of his status. Al those times when he did not finish his meal or did not show at the table because he was angry at Thor or their father. So much food wasted, now he would do anything to feed Svein properly.

Anything but returning to the palace and admitting his mistake. He might or might not be forgiven, Odin could banish him, disown him or demand that Loki leave his husband for good.

Anthony finally joined them, he was as exhausted as Loki, as filthy and downhearted as Loki. Misery, hunger, distress, it killed their love, slowly, neither of them noticed until it was too late. Loki glanced at Anthony, hoping to feel that fondness that once filled his heart at the sheer memory of the smith. It was gone, that flame, burnt out. Loki felt he was frozen to his husband, cursed to spend an eternity in that desolated place. The only emotion he felt when looking at Anthony was a helpless anger, maybe resentment. Anthony seduced him, promised a wonderful life, endless days of joy and laughter and love stronger than death. It did not last even one winter.

'He's growing,' Anthony sounded weary, too wretched to express pride. Perhaps they both regretted bringing the child to that world, forcing Svein to live in poverty. They never should have met, it burnt Loki to admit that Odin was right when he refused accepting Anthony as his son-in-law. The romantic vision of living a simple life, far away from the opulence and strict rules of the Asgardian court, it was so naïve, Loki knew that now.

'Yes, he is,' he sighed and that was the first time they exchanged words in weeks.

 

**Author's Note:**

> It's all Melikenoother's fault, her comments inspired this fic. Seriously, thank you, dear. I hope you enjoyed this little gift.
> 
> Stay tuned for the third part!


End file.
